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In spite of herself her hand went up, wanting to touch his face, ease the discomfort of that wound—in all ways. But the look in his eyes, the way his head jerked backwards, stopped the movement as it began.
‘You can trust me.’
‘I will decide when—if—that is true. For now, this is how it is to be.’
Without warning he took one step forward and, bending his head, brought his lips down hard on hers, crushing her mouth open so that the intimate taste of him flooded her senses, weakened her knees. Just a couple of heartbeats and then it was over. He was retreating from her, pushing her towards the bedroom as he swung away to the huge windows that looked down into the courtyard where the wedding festivities were still going on, the celebrations mocking the reality of the way the promised wedding night had turned out for the bride and groom.
‘Go to bed, wife,’ he commanded harshly. ‘I will see you in the morning.’
Deliberately he turned his back on her, folding his arms across his broad chest as he stared out at the darkened city below. He obviously didn’t spare her a single further thought but, as Aziza stumbled wearily in the direction of the bedroom she had expected to share with her groom that night, that kiss left her knowing that even without trust, without any form of affection, one touch, one caress, could still set molten desire pouring through her veins in a way that left her hungering for more.
CHAPTER NINE
SIX DAYS HAD passed since the wedding day.
Six nights since the wedding night that wasn’t.
Six days of being a bride but not a wife.
Six days of being Queen to everyone in the country—but not to the one man who mattered. She’d even had to be at his side during the planned six days of celebrations that marked the royal wedding. Dressed as a queen, treated as a queen, knowing that as soon as they returned to their suite she would once more, like Cinderella, turn back into the insignificant maid she had once claimed to be. Never being anything to Nabil but a source of suspicion. Never knowing if he was going to renounce her and hand her back to her father in disgrace.
And what made matters worse was that each evening they’d been escorted to the royal suite of rooms with smiles and choruses of delight and left there, obviously meant to turn their attention to the vital matter of creating that all-important heir to the throne. Instead of which they had spent so much of their time in awkward silence until it had come time to prepare for bed.
Six nights of being in his bed—but without him. Six nights of not sleeping at all, but tossing and turning restlessly in spite of the luxury of her surroundings. And if she had fallen asleep at all then the restless, wildly erotic nature of her dreams piled sensation on sensation, making her heart race. She didn’t know how many times she had lived through that terribly intimate search in her dreams. She only knew that in the darkness of her night-time imagination it felt even more heated, even more sensual than anything she had ever experienced in her life.
Waking had only brought coldness and shock, leaving her shivering in frustration, lost and bereft, unable to control her racing thoughts.
Six nights of that and she felt like a wreck, worn out from lack of sleep and from living each day on her nerves.
Today they had been to the farewell banquet for all their guests. She had spent a long time sitting beside Nabil on the ornate throne to which he had led her after their marriage, a throne she felt she had no real right to. As a result she had been unable to eat anything more than a mouthful or two while the ceremonial event had passed in a haze. Then she had spent more than an hour standing at Nabil’s side as they’d said farewell to their guests. This at least had given her something to do; her studies came into use and she was able to greet so many of the dignitaries in their own language.
At last all the formal events were over and once more she was free to return to their suite where she sank down wearily into a chair and kicked off her elegant shoes.
‘You did well today.’
The voice from the door surprised her and she glanced up, startled. She had been so sure that today, with the official ceremonies complete, Nabil would be free to find his own space, and that he would decide to leave her alone, give himself the privacy neither of them had had over the past week.
‘I—thank you.’
Was he as tired as she was? As tired of the ceremonies and ritual, at least. His voice sounded flat enough for it, though he showed no sign of the sheer bone-aching fatigue that she had endured for the past couple of days. Nights with little sleep, the nerve-stretching tension of not being trusted, and every minute of the ceremony that she had no experience of would do that. For the past few nights she had pretended exhaustion as an excuse to crawl into the sanctuary of the bedroom and hide away. Tonight she took refuge in the same excuse.
